Under Fire (24 page)

“Here’s my driver’s license from our home state of Oregon. And here’s my husband’s identification as well. Phil and Audrey Franklin. On the bed over there are our family pets, Disco and Fang.”

Liam glanced at her, one eyebrow raised.

She babbled on nervously, while Officer Vogel flipped the IDs over. “Phil didn’t have gray hairs yet in this photo, but he had the picture made back when he was using that Grecian Formula because he was worried about losing his masculinity.”

Choking on a cough, Liam scratched the back of his neck.

She forged ahead. “And what do you know? All we really needed was a vacation in Florida and some naughty fantasies.”

Frowning, Vogel passed the pair of IDs back to her. “These actually appear to be in order. You two should really be more careful. Places like this aren’t the safest. People usually come here to find something bad or hide from something even worse. Understand, ma’am?”

“Completely.”

“And Mr. Franklin, next time, just pretend to pick her up in a nice hotel bar and get a room, preferably one that sports clean sheets, okay? Protect your wife like a good husband.”

“Will do, Officer,” Liam answered, tight-lipped. He closed and locked the door. He flattened his hands on the frame.

His back expanded with a deep sigh before he turned around to face her again. “Wanna tell me what’s going on with our IDs, Mrs. Franklin?”

***

Liam took in Rachel’s tousled hair and plumped lips. She looked like a woman who’d been doing exactly what they had been doing five minutes ago.

Or rather, what they’d almost done before the cop interrupted.

Anger churned in his gut with an emotion he hadn’t felt in so long he almost didn’t recognize it. Fear. Fear for Rachel set his stomach burning with acid. “Well? Anything to say?”

“Should we leave now?”

He considered it. Then shook his head. “If we bolt, Officer Vogel might think we have something to hide, and the less he thinks about us, the better. Then there’s that television crew. We’re better off staying here for now.”

“I can see that… Mr. Franklin.” Her mouth twitched again.

“You’ve got a warped sense of humor,
Mrs. Franklin
.”

Rachel stood toe-to-toe with him, sexy and seemingly unaffected by how close they’d been to deep, deep trouble. “Liam, you’re not going to stare me down with that grim ‘I’m in charge’ face, so take it down a notch.”

Grim?
Grim?
He wasn’t grim. He was the fun guy, the team’s cool CRO, the one who made people laugh and unified a group. Or rather he had been until about six months ago, when someone had kicked the props out from under his world.

“Then how about some answers, Rachel? What’s up with the Franklin family fake IDs, and is there anything else in that bag I should know about?” Needing distance from the draw of her, the need to pull her close and safe, he placed his weapon on the table beside her backpack. “Keep in mind, I do not like being lied to.”

Really didn’t like it, especially after marriage number two.

“Sunny gave me the extra identification, just in case.” She passed the pouch to him. “There was no need to tell you unless we needed it. Which we did.”

He thumbed the well-worn leather. “And that’s all?”

“That’s it.” She crossed her arms, which plumped her bra-less breasts against the snug T-shirt. “Come on, Liam, you have to admit what happened with Officer Vogel would be funny any other time.”

“I’m not laughing.”

“Maybe you need to.” She flattened her hands to his chest. “This will make for a great bar story some day. Maybe you’ll even get a new call sign out of it… like
John
, perhaps.”

He bit back the urge to laugh, humor battling with anger.

Damn. Just damn. He was already on the edge, and seeing her like that? His body throbbed to life again with memories of how close they been to hooking up.

He took a step toward her, his boot crackling a twenty-dollar bill on the carpet. “You like to make up sex games, Mrs. Franklin?”

“My fantasies about you are the real kind, Liam.” She draped her arms over his shoulders, moving in close where there was no mistaking the honesty in her eyes. “I just want to be with you right now. In a bed or against the door. It doesn’t matter as long as we let this happen, uncap the steam and tension that’s building inside me until I’m going to scream if I don’t get relief. For some reason I don’t understand, and quite frankly am scared to analyze right now, you’re the only man I want to ease this ache.”

He knuckled back her hair and drew her to him until her breasts skimmed his chest. “What about the questionable sheets?”

One step at a time, she backed him toward the door. “We’ll start here, and move to the shower next. Skip the bed altogether.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Arms around her waist, he lifted her off the floor until she was level with him.

Turning, he planted her against the locked door, already kissing before her back met the panel. Her fingers threaded through his hair, tugging him nearer. The ache to have her sliced him clean through again, the edge sharper, given how close they’d come to having everything blow up in their faces.

She unfastened one button at a time along the fly of his jeans. “No more finesse. No more waiting.” She slipped her hands inside his boxers, right alongside his erection, without touching. “I hurt from wanting you.”

Then her cool hands closed around him.

He fought down the need to finish now. He tore her shirt down the middle and latched onto her nipple. Her grip on him tightened in time with her groan. He completely agreed.

Reaching, he clapped a hand on the table and snagged a condom. She picked it from his hand, tugging it open. He worked the zipper down on her shorts, sweeping the panties along with it. He stroked and lingered along her slick warmth. She rocked against his touch, breathy sighs encouraging him. She kicked her clothes aside as she sheathed him.

Pressing his forehead into her hair, he struggled to keep himself in check.

“Liam, no more waiting. We’ll go fast now, and slow later in the shower. Then slow again wherever you choose. Stop thinking, analyzing, protecting, and just take me…” She hitched a leg around his hips. “Take me now, because I’m so close to the edge and I don’t want to go there without you.”

Her words snapped the last of his restraint. She tucked her hands into his jeans and urged him… inside. Her damp heat clamped around him. Her breasts beaded tighter against his chest. He thrust into her again and again. Thoughts of threats outside scattered from his brain and everything faded except for the feel of her. The whisper of her voice as she gasped in pleasure, telling him she was close, so very close…

She came apart and he had to watch every second. Take in this moment that had haunted his frustrated dreams for six months.

They’d been through so much in the past couple of days—six months ago as well. There hadn’t been anyone since he’d seen her for the first time. He’d told himself he was too busy for a relationship, but he knew now he’d been burning for her. He’d been grieving over losing her in a way he’d never done for any woman before, not even a wife.

***

Rachel splayed her hands on the wet tiles, the aftermath of her third release still rippling through her. Pleasure tingled like the beads of water from the shower washing over her again and again.

Her hands fell to rest on Liam’s head, holding on to his saturated hair as he knelt between her legs. His unshaven face rasped against the tender flesh of her thighs. He eased his tongue along the tight bundle of nerves, drawing out the last flashes of pleasure until her knees gave way.

He caught her, his hands big and strong, triggering another reverberation through her. She leaned into him as he reclined in the tub, taking her weight as she blanketed his body with hers. A sigh of contentment vibrated inside her. Silently, he toed the shower off, switching to the faucet and closing the drain.

Earlier, coming together had been impulsive. Reactive. Riding the wave of adrenaline from so many close calls. And yes, even fueled by all the talk of being a couple playing out fantasies to spark up their sex life.

Right now, being naked and vulnerable with Liam? Things got complicated. This was about emotions. About unresolved issues between them from six months ago.

She’d deluded herself since leaving the Bahamas that she could avoid these feelings if she avoided the man. Clearly, that wasn’t true.

Her legs pressed against his hips, one leg against his right buttock, where she’d found a green footprint tattoo. He’d told her it was standard for PJs, in honor of the earlier days when helicopters called Jolly Green Giants flew them around. There were so many things left to learn about him, so many things she wanted to know. Sure, she’d heard about his ex-wives and met the members of his team on the job.

But what about his childhood? What had shaped him into the adult he’d become? She knew none of those private details about the man she’d already let have such access to her own life, her body, and maybe her heart.

She sipped beads of water from his chest, kissing her way along his collarbone. “I told you about my mom. Tell me about your family.”

“I don’t have family.”

“Everyone has family, even if they’re not blood related.” She traced along his chest down to his six pack. How could one man be so lean and muscled at the same time? Every ounce of him was poured into sculpted strength—strength she’d enjoyed the hell out of since they closed that door behind Officer Vogel.

“Okay, then, the fire department of Dalton, Texas, is my family.”

“Fire department?”

“I volunteered there when I was seventeen. I couldn’t go into burning buildings, but I could ride with them. I got to play with the Jaws of Life. I ate good meals and had male role models to give me advice.”

“Your father was dead?”

“No, but my mother died of cancer when I was eleven, and after that, honestly, my father didn’t care what I did.” He held up a hand and she linked fingers with him. “No need to make it a sob story. He wasn’t brokenhearted over my mother’s death. He didn’t abuse me. I had a roof over my head. According to all of the different marriage counselors, he was a self-absorbed narcissist. And since my mother died when I was young, I was constantly seeking to re-create the perfect home life for myself through my many failed marriages.” He rattled off the information dispassionately, as if reciting from a textbook. “And yet I kept re-creating the past by getting into relationships doomed from the start.”

“Um, wow. That’s… sad?” Tragic actually. Every woman in his life had left him, even his mother, who couldn’t help what happened to her.

He kicked the faucet off. “Funny how knowing doesn’t help stop the cycle.”

“I think maybe you chose those women because you knew they weren’t a threat to your military calling. Maybe they weren’t a threat to your heart either. I know how much it hurts, losing your mother young.”

His smile went tight. “Are you planning on hanging up a shingle and charging for the therapy too?”

“Not therapy. Just observations.” She feathered her fingers over his eyebrows. “Just caring about you.”

He captured her wrist. “You’ve got to know history shows caring doesn’t usually end well, where I’m concerned.”

Had so few people cared for him after his mother died that he was uncomfortable accepting affection? Had that been what his therapists meant? Liam, the protector, knew how to give and be in charge, but he didn’t know how to receive. And he was right, in that one-sided relationships didn’t stand a chance.

Damn it, she didn’t know what the future held for them. But she couldn’t turn away from Liam now without making sure she gave him something of herself and that he let her. Even if only on a physical level.

Sitting up, she straddled him, running her fingers over his broad chest.

He started to stand. “I’ll grab some towels—”

She shook her head and pressed against his chest. “I’m not ready to get out yet, and neither are you.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Is that so?”

“Mm-hmmm.” She splayed her fingers along his pecs, fully aware he could hoist her out of the way with little effort.

But she willed him with her eyes to lean back. Give over control to her and let her give something to him.

Slowly, he reclined in the tub again, raising the water again to half full. Moisture clung to the sprinkling of golden hair on his chest. Still astride him, she rubbed against him. His erection pressed between her legs, his thick shaft applying tantalizing pressure as she rocked along the length of him.

They’d showered together, soaping each other thoroughly—so very thoroughly—then filled the tub. The motel might be low budget on style and housekeeping, but it had an unending hot-water tank.

Warmth lapped around them. Her soaked hair clung to her body. Her cheek sealed to his chest with the moisture, his heartbeat steady in her ear. “I can’t believe we finally had sex.”

One hand cupped her bottom, the other skimmed up and down her spine. “It was inevitable, once you showed up in my life again. Don’t you think?”